Sto Helits
by Pandamoniam
Summary: Susan's family was and is pretty weird. Especially the human side.


**Gosh I haven't posted anything in an eternity. Here's a crappy fic bc it's a crying shame that there aren't any with Susan interacting with her parents.**

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Susan slid out of her room, candlestick in hand. Its flickering light cast bizarre shadows down the dark hallway, not that it bothered her. It took more than a bit of moving darkness to scare her.

Back pressed to the wall, because stealth was required in the given circumstances, the young teen made her way down the obnoxiously long hall. Despite Sto Helit being a fairly small area, her family still had a large castle. It made midnight sneaking a bit more difficult than need be. Still, it had to be done, Susan reasoned, she needed a bit of chocolate.

Of course, she could just as well get some during the day, but that would be admitting defeat. She'd managed to uphold her reputation of not liking chocolate as much as her mother for a solid 14 years, and she wasn't about to blow it because of stupid feminine cravings. She, Susan Sto Helit, was not an average female. She liked black and skulls and waving sticks around, and having a love for chocolate just didn't fit that description. So, midnight snacks would have to do.

Thankfully, even if she would never admit it, her mother always kept a couple boxes of chocolate in one of the top cupboards. And, since Ysabell had a bit out of them every day, she never noticed when Susan snitched a piece here or there. Susan took a hesitant step into the kitchen and glanced around, making sure there weren't any cooks lingering, then grabbed a stool and carried it over to the general vicinity of the cupboard.

Looking around one last time, she set the candle on the counter and stepped up beside it. She squinted in the faint lighting, hands groping around for knobs and hair shifting around nervously. She hated when it did that.

Finally her fingers looped around something, and with a soft tug Susan popped open the cupboard. She retrieved her candle and peered into the dark recess, eyes lighting up as two elegant purple boxes came into sight. Her spare hand lifted up the lid of the top one, and she scooped up three pieces.

Logically speaking, Susan should have closed up the cupboard and eaten the chocolates in her room. However, it had been about a week since her last taste, and she had too much of her mother about her to really think that far ahead. The first piece popped into her mouth, and she almost sighed as heavenly caramel oozed around in her mouth as she bit through soft chocolate.

"Susan?"

She froze, eyes wide as, for the first time, she noticed the extra bit of light flickering in her peripheral vision. Swallowing, Susan turned her head just enough to see the face that definitely matched up with the surprisingly pleasant voice. The face that made her think _bloody, bloody hell_ over and over again.

"Um, yes, mother?" she said, body angling towards her and arms folding behind her back in a vain attempt to hide what she was doing. Her birthmark flared to life, leaving hot streaks of embarrassment on her cheeks.

Ysabell, with a candle in hand and an incredulous expression, frowned. "What exactly are you doing, my girl?" Her pearly eyes narrowed as they met Susan's, who diverted hers.

"Well, I'm, um-" Susan mentally flailed around for an answer "-the cupboard was already open, um, and anyways I wasn't here for your bloody chocolates-"

Her mother grinned. "You've got a bit on the corner of your lip, love."

Susan didn't yelp, because that was not a thing that she did, but instead let out some other embarrassed noise as she wiped the sleeve of her dressing gown over the smear. Then it was back to staring awkwardly at her mother, trying to find a way around discussing what had happened. Thankfully, she wasn't the daughter of a diplomat for nothing.

"What are you doing up, mother?" Susan said, eyes locked on Ysabell as her hand reached for the cupboard. Some grey areas involving her father began to emerge as possibilities, and she decided focusing on her current situation would make her feel less disgusted.

A vague hand gesture came in reply. "Thinking, I suppose."

She was surprised. Out of her parents, she'd always pictured her father as the one to stay up late pondering. Well, it wasn't _just_ a picture. She could remember once when she was younger, much younger, hearing him wandering down the hall muttering about how pointless being a Duke was, to which she heard her mother say, "Mortimer, it doesn't matter, come back to bed."

And yet here she was, up late 'thinking' with a candle in her hand, catching her sneaking some chocolates. Susan wanted to be indignant, she really did, but she felt like a toddler being caught raiding a cookie jar and was still reeling over it. Therefore, her response lacked the edge it normally would. "Oh," she said, "about what, exactly?"

"Adult things you needn't worry about," Ysabell said, her sudden downcast expression concerning Susan. Then she was smiling once more and attempting to seem inviting. "Anyways, grab one of those boxes since you're up there already, and-" Her mother walked over and hoisted herself up on the countertop, patting the space beside her "-take a seat."

Figuring she was in enough trouble, or at least some form of it, Susan complied without complaint and snatched one of the lovely boxes from the cupboard. She latched the door and slid down next to Ysabell, who took the container without delay.

"Don't worry," her mother said after plucking out a piece of chocolate, "I won't tell your father."

Susan felt relieved somehow, but said nothing. Instead, she observed her in the faint, ever-changing light, taking in details she seldom acknowledged during the normal hours of the day. Things like how she had that type of build specifically found in mothers that made children want to curl up against them. Only, well, she was Susan Sto Helit, and curling up wasn't exactly her strong suit. It ended up as more of an awkward lean than anything.

And, as her head rested against her mother's shoulder, Susan remembered how young she really was. Some people didn't start families until their 30s, in fact it wasn't too uncommon, and here her mother _was_ in her 30s, and she had a 14-year-old daughter. Sometimes, if she really thought about it, Susan found the concept a bit strange, but it was all she knew. To her, it was completely normal that her parents married at 16, and she was fine with that.

"You know," Ysabell said after a few moments of quiet, "you shouldn't worry so much about eating these. You're built like your father, and he's about as skinny as they come." She scowled. "You can always see his bloody ribs. It's rather concerning."

"That's not the issue," Susan said, allowing herself to put one of the now-melting chocolates in her mouth. She was partially disgusted, mainly with herself, that it tasted so good. "It's just, well, you're you and I'm me, and I'd rather those things stay separate."

Her mother giggled. "I'm afraid things don't work that way when you're related." She put an arm around Susan, who frowned at the gesture, and gave her a squeeze. "Besides, ladies like chocolate. It's just a given."

"It's a bloody stupid given."

Ysabell laughed again, a finger twirling one of Susan's curls. "I'm going to miss you when you go back to school," she said, reluctance leaking into her cheery tone. Susan realized with a small twinge of guilt that perhaps the adult stuff she needn't worry about was just her mother being her mother, and her gaze shifted to Ysabell's pale face.

"I'll, um-" She had never been amazing with sentiment. "-I'll miss you, too, mum.

"Maybe you'll meet some lovely young man while you're away," her mother said, eyes growing distant yet dreamy, "And perhaps you'll bring him home with you next year."

She sounded rather hopeful about that. Susan scoffed inwardly. There were times when the daydreaming, fantasy-loving side of her mother shone through, and it always annoyed her. They had raised her on facts and logic, and yet the mention of 'lovely young men' never failed to leak out from Ysabell's vocabulary. Everyone knew they didn't exist.

"Perhaps," Susan said, only out of respect, and slipped the final chocolate in between her lips. It was cherry. Her legs kicked a couple of times, betraying the giddiness she tried to swallow with the treat.

"Someone a bit more romantic than your father, hopefully," Ysabell added with a frown. Susan almost laughed. Her father had a terrible habit of overthinking just about everything, which normally resulted in either ruined moments or moments that never existed. Of course, he had to have pulled off at least one good, mushy moment, because otherwise she wouldn't exist. On the other hand, that was one moment out of 15 years of marriage.

Susan had to agree with her mother there. "Yes, I'd hope so."

"And perhaps a bit on the cheerful side as well. You and your father can be a little too much some days."

Susan also had to agree with that. She bobbed her head, and pressed back against Ysabell's side. "Alright, I'll keep an eye out for empty-headed romantics."

Her mother cuffed her over the head. "Oh shut up," she said, giggling. "Humor me a bit, Susan."

"If I must."

Ysabell sighed, running a hand through Susan's twisting locks. "Fine, fine." She smiled. "You'd better head to bed, now. It's late, and we're having company tomorrow."

"Goodnight, then," Susan nodded, suppressing the groan rising in her throat. Whenever anyone came over she had to wear something colorful, because black made her look 'morbid'. The Duke and Duchess of Sto Helit had an image to maintain, after all. One of two fairly awkward people with their even more awkward daughter, but at least they dressed normally.

"G'Night," her mother echoed, and pat her on the back.

Susan slid down from the counter and grabbed her candle, pausing to glance back at Ysabell. She still looked happy, just maybe a bit less so. Susan took a deep breath and walked back, eyes falling just short of her mother's.

"I _will_ miss you at school," said Susan, "I always do." She felt rather embarrassed for admitting it, but judging by how happy her mother looked it was the right thing to do.

"And I always miss you." Susan found herself pulled into a hug, her head resting on her mother's chest. Then she was kissed on the head, and nudged off towards the hall. "Now get some sleep."

"I will."

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 **This might be where I dump stuff for these guys? I've got at least ten unfinished fics I could cram into here, so there's that. I'm just leaving it open ended, because I _love_ these losers and there's not a lot of content on them. I'm used to it, though. I usually write Fossil Fighters stuff, if that's any indicator.**


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